“Do you want to see my beach?” she asked, as she led him to her living room.

She told him about her obsession with the ocean, about her desire to visit it often. She wanted to bring it home with her, so she could always have it nearby. She wanted to keep herself there, especially when times got hard.

She told him about how she had broken into the aquarium at the local zoo the week before and brought home a whale, a shark and a tuna, all so she could have her ocean teeming with life.

Her hand was in his as she led him across the house to the room she kept her ocean in and he could smell something strange in the air.

She smiled as she opened the door to the room, flicking on the lights overhead.

The room had been painted blue, matching a beautiful sky, while the light above, yellowed with age and dust, cast a glow to the tub below, filled with deeply old, dirty water, covered in dirt and algae.

“Do you like my beach?” she asked, a child-like beam on her face.

Her psychologist nodded and smiled back, agreeing that he liked it very much.